


Regression

by Denstort



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Gen, Past Lives? Dark Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:18:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denstort/pseuds/Denstort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt is suffering from a recurring nightmare that starts after he write's "Psycho", but he can't recall it. Dom and Chris take him to see an hypnotherapist after he's found in Chris's kitchen with a knife in his hand. They get more than they bargained for...but at least Matt isn't having the nightmare anymore...............</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regression

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song 'Psycho' of course

“Come on Matt!” Dom said for the third time.

“Don’t wanna, can’t I just take sleeping pills,” Matt whined.

“No, pills do your head in,” Dom said.

“How about whale song or sounds of the ocean?”

Dom didn’t smile; this was serious.

Matt was seriously sleep deprived because he was suffering with a recurring nightmare, one he wasn’t able to recall. They’d been happening since he’d penned and recorded ‘Psycho’ and Matt had joked that he must have been brain-washed by his own lyrics, until Dom had received an early morning call saying that the singer was found wandering the streets, still asleep and in his PJ’s.

They hadn’t done anything, thinking it was just another bout of Matt’s frequent sleep walking…but then he’d stayed overnight at Chris’s and Kelly had found him in the kitchen, still asleep but with one of the kitchen knives in his hand.

After that they had dragged him to their doctor’s and he’d recommend hypnotherapy.

“Chris,” Dom said, and the bassist grabbed Matt’s collar and virtually carried him into the therapist’s office.

********************

They were both surprised at how easily Matt had gone under. Out of all of them, they thought Matt would be the least susceptible.

“Okay Matthew, I want you to look out from your safe place and see the images in your nightmare. Can you see them?”

“Yeah.”

Matt frowned.

“What do you see?”

“It’s dark, foggy…there’s a smell. I think it’s…eww, sewers.”

“Can you see where you are, Matthew?”

Suddenly Matt snarled, “That is not my name.”

Dom and Chris suddenly sat up…that wasn’t even Matt’s voice.

The therapist didn’t seem surprised.

“This can happen. Sometimes the dreamer sees it from someone else’s perspective. It is how the mind sometimes processes images it can’t understand.”

The therapist turned his attention back to Matt.

“So, what is your name?”

“That is for me to know…they do not know it, not my real name…never ever know.”

“And who are they?”

“They are so, so stupid. Never catch me.”

Matt let out a giggle that was decidedly disturbing.

The therapist suddenly became more interested and asked what seemed to Dom and Chris a really stupid question.

“What year is it?”

“1888 of course.”

The therapist turned to the others and said, “I think we might have a case of regression.”

“What, you mean as in lived before?” Dom said.

The therapist nodded.

“Matthew’s nightmares might just be his past life bleeding through.”

“But that a load of rubbish,” Chris said.

“So some people think…but not myself. So…where are you?”

Matt let out another unpleasant giggle.

“Where sin walks and has no shame.”

“Does this place have a name?”

“You do not know it? Then I shall inform you, so that you shall stay away, lest you be contaminated. It is known as Whitechapel….a gateway to hell and I am its gatekeeper….but they call me by another name.”

The therapist seemed to tense, which made the others tense.

“And what do they call you?”

“Oh look, they have found my work…..I hope they admire my skills…”

“I’d like to know your name, so I can tell others about your skill.”

Matt smiled then, and it was a smile that neither Dom nor Chris wanted to see on the singer’s face ever again.

“They call me Jack.”

******************

All three of them laughed it off, but at least Matt’s nightmare had stopped, but Matt had become more aloof and tended to slink off in the middle of parties. They thought it was just Matt being Matt.

They were sitting in the green room, waiting for their cue to go on stage for the Brighton leg of their six date UK ‘Psycho’ tour.

“You read this,” Tom said and showed them the article on his tablet.

“Some sick weirdo been leaving pig’s hearts and other stuff at the same places Jack the Ripper killed his victims. Some are even saying they’ve seen a figure lurking in the shadows. You reckon it’s the ghost of Jack come back to haunt Whitechapel?”

“Nah, just some sick twat,” Chris said.

“Yeah, hope they catch him before he hurts someone,” Dom said.

None of them noticed Matt in the shadows, that same smile that wasn’t his on his face.

“Never catch me….never ever catch Jack.”


End file.
